


oh, the things you have me do

by Luthor



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Filth, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Public teasing, Strap-Ons, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthor/pseuds/Luthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is not a risk-taker – she likes to plan when she and Shepard will have an evening together, right down to the toy they will use, and whose quarters it will take place in (Shepard’s, usually, away from Glyph and the threat of being overheard by half the ship).</p><p>But something had changed today, and she isn’t certain what."</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, the things you have me do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peppermintcrack](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=peppermintcrack).



> This was meant to be a little peace offering for sending peppermintcrack angsty headcanons, but 5,000+ words of sin happened instead. I don’t know where or when this is set, not quite me1 and not quite me3, so I’m just going to call it AU and be done with that. :)

“Anyway,” Shepard begins, clearing her throat, and the amused chatter of her squadmates quiets back down into near-silence, “I just wanted to say, good job. That last mission came too close to disastrous, but we got what we needed, and we got out alive.” She turns her attention to the other side of the semi-circular table. “Cortez, I don’t want to know where you learned to drive like that, but it was not Alliance-approved.”

Vega lets out a half-suppressed laugh, clapping him on the back, and Shepard’s grin widens.

“You saved our asses. Again.” A round of agreement goes around the table, and Shepard uses the moment to steal a quick sip from her glass of water, tugging her shirt collar away from her warm neck. When she next meets Cortez’s gaze, she nods his way, and he lets himself crack a grin. “The rest of you, too. You did good today. The next time we’re in that kind of—” Her words are interrupted by a sharp cough, one fist pressing against her lips while the other returns to her water glass. She clears her throat a few times and then, disregarding or else having forgotten what she was about to say, nods as though she’d already finished her point. “You did good.”

“You okay there, Commander?” Ashley asks, smirking, though her words are laced with concern.

“Esteban’s driving will do that to you…”

“You do look a little red,” Tali pitches in over Cortez’s denial, the glow from her irises narrowing through her mask. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m fine – it was just a tickle. Now you should go— get your dinner, eat something. You all deserve a break.”

“Aye-aye,” Ashley agrees, the first to stand. Kaidan is quick on her heels. “Don’t forget to join us, Shepard. We might have done all the grunt work, but you still had to strain your voice yelling and looking pretty.”

Tali is the last to stand from her chair, bar Shepard and Liara, and looks reluctant to leave. She pivots in place, one finger raised to make her point: “It could be a fever – you humans are always so _colourful_ , it’s difficult to tell. Should I alert Dr. Chakwas?”

“No,” Shepard insists, shifting in her seat. “No, but thanks, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, Shep—”

“Go get your food, Tali,” Shepard interrupts her, her cheeks reddening further. “I promise I’m okay. I’ll be down soon.”

Tali pauses long enough to give her and Liara a long look, makes an unconvinced humming noise, and then leaves. Shepard is rigid until the door closes with a sibilant hiss, and then sinks slowly into her chair. In her lap, Liara’s hand resumes the gentle, if incredibly torturous stroking along one thigh. She gives a faux-thoughtful hum, the sound utterly exaggerated, and slowly turns to see Shepard’s face.

“You _do_ look a little pink,” she muses, and Shepard as good as sinks back into her chair, body collapsing, no longer desperately trying to hide beneath the table. “Though we might assume that it’s less to do with any ailment, and more to do with… _ah_.” Her gaze slips down to Shepard’s lap, one eyebrow marking rising daintily at the way her trousers strain at the crotch. “To think, half of your species has to deal with this little problem on a regular basis. How ever do you get anything done?”

Shepard huffs, but her body tenses when Liara’s questing hand slides ever higher towards the apex of her thigh, fingertips brushing with enough pressure to tease, and nothing more. Her body deflates again as Liara’s touch slides away, and a chill shivers briefly up her spine.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a problem just yet,” Shepard tells her, voice strained. “And I wouldn’t exactly call it _little_ , either.”

Liara’s cheeks hint at a blush, but her smile is far too refined. She looks utterly unaffected, though this hasn’t always been the case, and is certainly not the truth. (Only when she’d realised just how hard Shepard got for her when she was like this, was it suddenly easy to brush aside her stammering, fumbling nervousness and take charge. She’d never expected taking on this kind of role before – had imagined it would sap the strength from her when she realised how terrible she is at it. In reality, she’s discovered the effects are much the opposite.) 

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees, voice quiet, measured. She could be reading from a textbook (though Shepard would still be enthralled, even so). Liara’s fingers slide towards the apex of Shepard’s thigh again, but this time they do not stop. She cups the impressive bulge in her hand and Shepard manages to suck in a breath – is thankful for it, when Liara’s fingers gently close around her, and that same breath splutters past her windpipe before she can take another. “What would you call it, then?”

“Agony,” Shepard hisses, trying not to cant her hips up. Liara tsks in disapproval when she notices.

“That’s very dramatic.”

“It’s very true…”

She tilts her hips ever so slowly forward, grinding her synthetic erection into Liara’s hand, and for a too-short moment Liara lets her enjoy the minute friction that the movement grants her. It’s not nearly enough, though Liara already knows this – she waits for the moment that Shepard herself realises, when she falls back into her seat with a defeated sigh, and her smile broadens with amusement.

“I suppose I should do something to alleviate your discomfort, then, hm? Seeing as I caused this…”

Shepard levels her with a look that lacks conviction. “You have caused this,” she tells her, yet it comes out fondly, and only feeds Liara’s smile.

“Very well. You know how I hate to see you suffer.”

Shepard would attest to this, were it true, but she already knows that there’s a kind of suffering that excites Liara – just as long as it’s provided by her own hand, and taken away just the same. And this – the slow draw of her fingers, the gentle massaging through her trousers that serves to make the toy inside her harder with every new lick of arousal, only to meet the restraints of her suddenly too-tight clothing – fits perfectly within that definition.

Liara stands with purpose.

She draws her chair out and then pushes it back in again as though Shepard is not watching her every move, painfully hard. Her suffering is ignored until Liara leans forward, both hands on Shepard’s shoulders to keep herself steady while she throws a leg over her hip. She meets Shepard’s gaze as she descends into her lap, landing carefully behind her erection, and smiles when Shepard’s hands move immediately to her ass. They give a slight, indulgent tug forwards, and Liara makes a throaty noise when the bulge in Shepard’s trousers presses intimately against her inner thighs.

“Liara…”

“How long have you been wearing this?” Liara asks, ignoring her plea. She looks genuinely curious, watching her own fingers as they tease along Shepard’s chest, her abdomen, straight down to her tented crotch. “Since the mission—?”

“N-no. After my shower.”

Liara accepts her answer with a quiet noise of acknowledgement, though she looks pleased. Her gaze lifts back to Shepard’s pink face, and her smile wavers into place again as she pinches the zipper between finger and thumb. “Were you imagining this happening when you put it in?” she asks, drawing it down so slowly that Shepard can feel the vibration from the zipper’s unlocking teeth against the over-sensitive dildo. She tries to answer with a quiet groan, and Liara’s hand stops all advancement in retaliation. “Hm – were you thinking of me touching you beneath the table while everybody sat around and watched your face?”

Shepard coughs again – considers reaching for her water.

“What were you picturing, Shepard? My hand through your open zipper just like this?” It could be the case; her fingers meet no further barrier once they’re inside of Shepard’s trousers. She had been thinking of _something_ , certainly, and Liara’s body warms by degrees when she wonders what those thoughts could have been.

“Mm, not exactly…”

Liara hesitates for a fraction of a second before continuing the teasing stroke of her fingers. With her hand inside Shepard’s open zipper almost to the wrist, and the button still closed, there’s little room for movement. She makes the most of the space, and still has Shepard squirming in her seat, seeking something more – something warmer and wetter and infinitely more comfortable.

“Tell me,” she says, her voice whispered and desperate. When Shepard only tilts her head back, exposing the column of her throat, Liara’s fingers tighten sharply around the toy. Shepard jumps when the mirrored sensation buzzes against her clit, the toy’s stimulation pad top of the range (and worth every credit). “Tell me,” again, voice harder now, and Shepard tries not to pant.

“I was imagining y-your mouth,” she manages, while Liara rewards her by drawing the dildo out through her open zipper. She removes her hand completely afterwards, and Shepard is left to watch, gaping, while Liara wets her palm with her tongue before returning it again. Her strokes come slow and long, lingering against the toy’s sensitive tip. “I pictured using it to fuck your mouth. I wasn’t gentle.”

“Oh…” It takes Liara a moment to recover, though her hand neither slows down nor falters in its rhythm. Finally, she swipes her thumb along the toy’s bulging head, and sighs, “that’s filthy, Shepard,” without managing to mask the smile in her voice.

“You asked.”

Liara delivers their first kiss softly – far too sweetly, compared to what her hand is doing between their flushed bodies. She smiles upon pulling back, the façade lost for a second. “Later?” she whispers, and Shepard smiles, slow and easy, before accepting with a nod. Promise acquired, Liara kisses her again, and then draws back – back into character.

“You’ve always enjoyed my mouth,” Liara muses, and Shepard hums in agreement.

“I enjoy every part of you.”

“While that is a relief,” Liara grins, “I’m not sure I should be stripping in here. Just about anybody could walk in on us.”

“Ah-huh, that’s true… But do you think this would be explained away faster if you weren’t naked?”

“I’m not taking my clothes off in here, Shepard.”

“Spoil sport.”

Liara ends the discussion with another kiss, but there’s a smile in her eyes, and her voice drops conspiratorially low once again. “ _Later_.”

Her fingers on Shepard’s strap-on linger around the sensitive head, her thumb teasing the groove that runs through its curved end, simulating the real thing without any of the mess. The only downside to the toy is its lacking lubrication, and Liara hadn’t thought to bring any with her on her way to the meeting. The spit from her hand is already running dry, and so she massages the cock’s sensitive underside before drawing completely away.

Before her, Shepard groans her disappointment.

“You’re making a lot of those promises today,” she says, and Liara’s eyebrow markings arch in indignation – as though she’d never follow through.

“I seem to recall making another. You do want me to make you feel good, don’t you, Commander?”

Her title draws another half-hearted groan, and Shepard looks miserably between Liara’s face, and her own throbbing erection. She is hot and wet already, and after this she won’t be surprised if Liara drags her back into the shower. But, for now: “Please,” she sighs, and Liara dismounts her with an eager smile. She does not travel far, but to the floor space between Shepard’s legs, which she parts to give herself kneeling space between.

Shepard pulls herself further up in her seat, shifting her feet outwards so as to give Liara plenty of room. Her heart stutters at the image of Liara on her knees before her – stutters even quicker at the threat of the door on the opposite side of the room, unlocked for anyone to enter, should they have half the mind to do so.

They should stop now – make it to the cabin where Shepard can peel Liara out of her clothes, and where she won’t have to worry about how much noise they’re going to make. There are perks to her elevated cabin, after all. Still, while the option is a tempting one, she knows they won’t take it. Not yet, at least, if the glint of determination within Liara’s eyes is anything to go on.

“You don’t have to beg for me, Shepard,” Liara tells her, her breath ghosting against the exposed dildo as she moves closer in. Shepard’s own hitches inside her throat. “I enjoy this – making you feel good, watching you come loose like this. But you rarely have a chance to relax; I have to savour it. Draw it out.”

“I don’t think this counts as relaxed…”

“Oh, that will come later,” Liara promises, her lips close enough now that when she speaks, they brush against the synthetic cock and send barely-there vibrations through the stimulation point against Shepard’s clit. “Weren’t you ever told that good things come to those who can wait?”

“Th-that’s a human proverb,” Shepard gasps when Liara lowers her lips to the base of the cock, as far as she can go before Shepard’s trousers are in the way, and then draws her tongue up its length – slowly enough that when she reaches the tip to place an open-mouthed kiss, Shepard has already half-forgotten her point. It comes back to her when Liara draws away again, and the buzzing against her clit ceases. “I told _you_ that.”

“While my hands were tied to your headboard – yes, I remember. You were very… creative that day.”

Despite her unaffected tone, her cheeks turn that pretty purple again, flushed and warm, and her gaze is laced with longing. Shepard grins at the sight, promises her, “ _later_ ,” and Liara turns her face down to hide her smile.

Her lips return to the base of the cock, smothering it with wet kisses and a lot of tongue. The sensitivity isn’t unbearable, this low down, but there is still a discreet hum of vibration against the stimulation pad. Shepard can stand this, is the point, and she is grateful. Liara seems intent on lubing the dildo up by mouth.

The sensation so far being mild enough for her to enjoy with a relatively clear mind, Shepard sits back and watches, her fingers occasionally brushing along a ridge in Liara’s crest, or the sensitive back of her neck. She applies a lick of pressure against one favourable spot which has Liara gasping, her body moving with a tremor, and her blue, blue eyes fixing upon Shepard’s for the next few licks and gentle, open-mouthed kisses. Shepard watches her clever tongue, captivated, as it inches up the length of her, bringing more stimulation with it the higher that she goes.

Tension begins to draw in Shepard’s body, the muscles in her thighs and abdomen slowly contracting as Liara presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss just beneath the dildo’s head. Shepard feels a thrash of her tongue against her, and cannot stop a quick, guttural groan from echoing up her throat. Still holding her gaze, Liara begins to gently suck the sensitive area, until Shepard is keening and rocking her hips in unthinking askance. Finally, with a slow blink and a smile, Liara releases her with a wet pop and wets her lips.

Aware, suddenly, of how hard that she’s been gripping the back of Liara’s neck, Shepard loosens her fingers and brings them, instead, to Liara’s flushed cheek. She is warm and soft against the thumb that she brushes along her cheekbone, and still smiling sweetly enough to make Shepard’s heart ache, even like this.

Humming, Liara repositions herself for comfort, her hands going to Shepard’s thighs and slowly sliding along them – up to squeeze her hips, and then right back down to her knees.

“Better?” she asks, nudging the length of the dildo with her still-parted, smiling lips. Shepard groans before she answers.

“It could be, yeah,” she agrees, and feels Liara’s indignant intake of breath mirrored through the dildo’s sensation transmitter – the gentlest hum against her clit. She smiles indulgently while Liara’s eyes narrow, teasing the cock some more against her pouting lips. “Don’t look at me like that,” Shepard tells her, drawing her thumb away from Liara’s cheekbone and down to her bottom lip. She pulls it downwards, back from her teeth, until Liara is pouting. “I was teasing.”

Liara’s eye flash. _I know you were_ , that look tells her, and _so will I_.

Almost as soon as Shepard interprets the look does Liara part her lips, allowing her thumb entrance – no, _urging_ its entrance, sucking fiercely enough to hollow her cheeks. Liara draws her head backwards, lets her puckered lips slip right down to the thumb nail, before drawing it back inside her warm, wet mouth again. As though Shepard’s look of quiet betrayal is not enough, she lashes her tongue gently against her captured digit, curling it up to tickle the thumb’s pad with just the tip, and then swirling it around the knuckle as she hollows her cheeks again.

Above her, a quiet, half-unintended noise escapes Shepard’s open mouth.

“ _Liara_ ,” she hisses, slowly drawing her thumb away. She takes her cock in hand, instead, and strokes herself with two-fingers-and-a-thumb while holding Liara’s narrowing gaze. “Please,” she tells her, forgetting their past conversation, and angles her cock forwards towards Liara’s mouth. “Please, Li…”

“Mm,” Liara hums, mouth closed, but allows Shepard to press the head of the cock to her lips. She indulges in a second or two more of Shepard’s distress, smiling, presses a kiss to the tip, and then takes it wholly into her mouth. Shepard’s groan is not quiet. She continues to slowly stroke herself while Liara’s tongue lashes against the dildo’s head, much the same as it had her thumb, seconds before.

Every twist and press of Liara’s tongue, the gentle suction that has her cheeks hollowing against either side of her, is mirrored in the sensation transmitter against Shepard’s clit – buzzing not-gently until she is clenching desperately around the other half of the toy inserted inside her. With the dildo held at this angle, and held firmly, she can shift her hips and almost move it inside of her. Mainly, she can press it further into that sensitive patch of skin against her inner wall, until, combined with the vibration at her clit, Shepard loses Liara’s gaze. Her eyes close, head tipping right back against her neck.

She keeps one hand around herself – strokes herself sparingly, almost afraid to come so soon, and yet desperately wishing for it.

And, she would. God, but she comes _so close_.

Liara draws backwards with a pleased hum, the volume of which almost rivals Shepard’s disappointed groan. “Already, Shepard?” she whispers, pressing a closed-mouth kiss halfway down the cock’s length, and Shepard deflates in her chair. She does not tip her head down or open her eyes to see Liara’s smile, though she can hear it in her voice, and it is maddening. “But I’ve only just begun.”

That draws Shepard’s attention, and her agonized expression shouldn’t make Liara’s smile widen like that, shouldn’t bring a satisfied glint to her eyes.

“I don’t think I can last much longer,” Shepard confesses, and there’s nothing else she can say, but, “please, make me come.”

Liara holds her gaze as though she’s considering it. She’d had something else in mind, surely, some other torturous, incredible plan to have Shepard writhing in her chair, but Shepard is already desperate. Liara must notice, for a moment later she accepts the plea with a short lift of her head. She takes Shepard’s hand in hers, drawing it away from her cock where she’s been holding it, fingers tense but no longer stroking.

“Then relax, love, and let me take care of you.”

It’s hummed against the tip of the dildo, where the faint brush of Liara’s lips turns into a slow, smooth engulfing into her hot, wet mouth – where the slightest hum against the sensation transmitter turns to a riotous buzz against Shepard’s clit. She groans again, too loudly, her free hand grasping for the chair arm, and then again for Liara’s steady shoulder. Liara holds her gaze for as long as she can, as she descends slowly down the length of her, drawing back every few seconds to catch her breath and try again.

It’s a struggle for Shepard to keep her hips still, but she manages, lets Liara control the pace with which she takes every inch past her lips, until she’s panting with her effort. When soft, blue lips reach the open zipper in Shepard’s trousers – when, finally, Liara has as much of her cock in her mouth as she’ll get with Shepard still dressed – she stops, relaxes her throat, and swipes her tongue towards the base of the dildo until she can taste just a hint of Shepard, so wet already around the second half of the toy.

Shepard gasps at the change in sensation, grunts again, and squeezes Liara’s shoulder in wordless plea. Taking pity, or else running out of air, Liara makes her slow retreat, exposing the dildo inch by inch until she can return focus to just the head. Her eyes are vaguely watering when she meets Shepard’s gaze, and there’s saliva down her chin – more of it warm and sticky between Shepard’s legs.

Liara’s expression softens, her tongue lapping gently at the ridge beneath the dildo’s head. She squeezes Shepard’s hand in hers and then messily rearranges the hold, threading their fingers together and squeezing once more. The build-up is agony – is at its peak, already, and Shepard has to desperately control her breathing in order to keep it there.

 _Wait, wait, wait_ , she tells herself. _Not yet._

But Liara’s loving eyes are smiling, _don’t hold back_.

Shepard comes with a gasp, her body arching, muscles tense and aching, pressing her stomach forward and canting her hips up once—twice—into Liara’s mouth. The buzzing against her clit is too much – gets her too quickly, shivering and writhing, choking on moans that she knows are too-loud, but hell if she can’t muffle them in time. She comes apart with Liara’s lips hollowing tightly around her cock, and her gaze soft and warm, never leaving her face even as Shepard jerks against her.

And after all of it, the build-up that had left her weak-kneed and over-sensitive, Liara continues to apply the gentlest suction until Shepard is gasping for her to stop, one hand against her cheek and her other still bone-tight in Liara’s own. She’s released with a slow pop, an appreciative hum, and all but sags into her chair as she watches Liara clean her own swollen lips with her tongue.

Afterwards, the room turns silent but for Shepard’s panting.

Liara remains on her knees, trailing both hands up and down Shepard’s thighs, easing her back to coherent thought. Her cheeks are tinged purple still, and the thought of the door on the other side of the room, of her own reckless, tawdry actions, has the colour deepening in hue. She is not a risk-taker – she likes to plan when she and Shepard will have an evening together, right down to the toy they will use, and whose quarters it will take place in (Shepard’s, usually, away from Glyph and the threat of being overheard by half the ship).

But something had changed, today, and she isn’t certain what. Perhaps it was the way Shepard had fought in that reckless way that she has, when the fighting gets into her head and takes over, though that wouldn’t be a new occurrence. Perhaps, she muses, it was the way she had noticed the curved bulge at Shepard’s crotch almost as soon as she’d seen her – and if not that, then the cocky smile on her lips, the _I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging to meld with me_ that had sat around her body like an aura throughout the debriefing.

She tilts her head to one side, considering Shepard now, tranquil and exhausted and slouching in her chair. Her gaze is watery but lucid when she finds Liara’s face – her smile wide and pleased and loving.

“Oh, the things you have me do,” Liara mutters to herself, grinning when Shepard gives an offended start.

“I didn’t ask for _any_ of this,” she protests. “I was going to drag you back to my bed after your dinner had settled, where there was absolutely no threat of us being walked in on.” Liara’s eyes narrow, and Shepard’s smile widens again. “But this was good. You’re not usually so spontaneous.”

“I can be _spontaneous_.”

“Mm, yes you can,” Shepard laughs, and Liara huffs before standing, using Shepard’s knees for leverage to pull herself to her feet. “Really, though, you didn’t even lock the door?”

Liara lands in her lap heavily, her thigh pressing the still-exposed dildo straight into Shepard’s stomach, both shifting the other half still inside of her and making the sensation transmitter pulse with a stammering vibration. Shepard’s body gives an involuntary start, twitching and gasping, until Liara’s quiet laughter has her stilling out of spite. Eyes narrowed, she better shifts Liara in her lap, and relaxes again once the pressure is off the dildo.

“It’s the evening meal,” Liara tells her, easing an arm around Shepard’s shoulders – the other at her chest, palm-flat to the _pat-pat-pat_ of Shepard’s heartbeat. “And the mission today was very successful; they’ll all be taking down-time until it’s time to sleep.”

“And were you thinking of any of that while you were blowing me?”

Liara’s blush flares up again, but she can’t stop her smile. Slowly, she shakes her head, and Shepard hums as though she’d known the answer all along – probably had, too, for she has the worst habit of seeing straight through Liara as though she were as translucent as a hologram. Regaining her energy, Shepard shifts again in the chair, straightening her back so that she can press a kiss to Liara’s flushed cheek.

“You make a good point, though,” she murmurs, a hand sliding purposefully along Liara’s leg, the pressure gentle but unavoidable as her fingers press into the apex of her thighs. Liara is so warm here, and draws in a stammering breath as Shepard cups her though her trousers, repaying the same teasing that Liara had driven her mad with while an entire room of people listened to her debriefing. “Who would have reason to come through here, anyway? They’ll all be taking down-time until it’s time to sleep, right?”

Liara flushes again at her own words mirrored back to her, or else the way Shepard’s fingertips _press, press, press_ as though she already knows that she’s found the most sensitive part of her through her clothes. However, she holds her breath – worries a moment that she’s not thinking rationally, that just because there’s no reason for them to be interrupted, there’s no chance of it happening.

She should take Shepard’s hand from between her legs and guide her to the elevator – she should, she knows this, and yet the thought of bumping into anyone on the way to Shepard’s cabin, of an interruption or a conversation that will stall them, keep Shepard from her, sends a fearful shiver down her spine.

“Right,” she agrees, finally, and Shepard’s smile turns predatory. “Shepard…”

“It’s okay,” Shepard tells her, soothing, “it’s alright. You made me feel so good, Liara, I want to do that for you. You don’t have to take a single thing off, see—” she slips a hand awkwardly into Liara’s trousers, but there’s give in the waistband, and it’s not at all uncomfortable nor impossible for her to slide her fingers towards her intended goal. “I can touch you like this, right here, and you don’t have to do a single thing – just enjoy it.”

As she speaks, her fingers slide through Liara’s folds – already so wet for her, though Liara has always taken pleasure in making her feel good. She avoids her clit but for a few brief, imprecise laps of her fingertips, and finds Liara’s entrance ready for her. There’s little resistance when she presses two fingers inside, and in her lap Liara pants and sighs, wriggles as though she wants to set the pace herself. Shepard watches her face closely, looks for the line in her furrowed brow and that concerned, desperate expression on her face that she’s come to expect when she touches Liara like this.

“Tell me what you want,” Shepard prompts her, as she often does, and Liara flushes darkly.

“I want you here with me,” Liara whispers, and Shepard nods her head, accepting.

A moment later and Liara’s eyes are as dark as deep space. She comes to Shepard barely controlled, each nerve ending writhing, aflame, and Shepard bites back an expletive. It’s worse, like this, as though to share the pleasure is to increase it, and Liara struggles to keep still. She presses her gasping mouth to Shepard’s jawline and shudders with each pass of Shepard’s fingers, filling her to the knuckle, pressing, pressing.

At some point, the pleasure bubbles to a shocking increase, and it takes Shepard a moment to realise that Liara has taken a hold of her cock – is sliding her hand along the still-wet head, her grip pulsing as her own body does around Shepard’s fingers. A brief shudder wracks through their bodies, and Shepard knows that this will not be a steady build-up. She increases her efforts, thrusts her fingers harder, presses deeper, the heel of her palm grinding against Liara’s clit until her hips are jogging against her—until desperate, gasping noises are stuttering past her lips.

“Shepard—”

“ _Fuck_.”

“I— _Goddess_ —”

When the climax breaks, it burns through their nerve endings in-tandem – blistering, blinding. Shepard’s mouth contorts in a soundless shout, while Liara whimpers into her throat, her hand tight around Shepard’s cock, and the other gripping just as fiercely at her chest, fingers twisted in her clothes.

She is the last to recover, while Shepard eases her hand out from between her legs, cleans her fingers with her tongue (Liara watching her, always, shuddering and breathing heavily as she follows each twist of tongue around Shepard’s fingers). Shepard holds her until she’s still, again, until her breathing comes easy and slow, until she releases a quiet yawn against Shepard’s throat and nuzzles closer still.

“I reckon they’re finished eating now,” Shepard says, content to sit a while, one hand caressing Liara’s hip. Liara makes a noise of agreement by her throat, though does not yet resurface. “We could probably grab a tray of something without too much hassle, and take it somewhere quiet?”

“Mm,” Liara agrees, lifting her head, finally, to show Shepard her tired smile before she kisses her – long and warm and deep. “My room, this time,” she tells her, and Shepard’s lips twitch upwards into a smile. “I have work to complete.”

“Are you sure I’m allowed in there with you, then? ‘Cause I can be very distracting.”

“ _Really_?” Liara laughs, and Shepard grins and kisses her again. “Are you okay to eat like this?” she asks, her gaze slipping down to the still-protruding dildo. She turns back to Shepard, catching her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from laughing again. “Perhaps you should take another shower.”

“No, not yet,” Shepard grins, and eases herself up. Taking note, Liara stands and Shepard joins her, straightening up in order to tuck herself back into her trousers. While she’s still zipping herself up, she lifts her gaze to Liara’s face and winks – laughs again at Liara’s mock-groan. “I might still have use for this later, after all.”


End file.
